Sonic the Black Knight
by alex the bordercollie
Summary: "The swordsman is the mask not the man" said the knight lowering his arms "and vice versa. Who you are and what you can do are not one and the same but two wholly separate things". The blacksmith stared down at the sword a moment in contemplation "then who are you?" he asked. "I?" said the knight the smile fading from his face...


"Why must you keep letting in strange men?!" the man grumbled as he stumbled around in the dark his wife close behind. It was late and all the light he had to guide his feet by was a small candle. "I didn't just let-him-in" protested his wife "I heard a noise outside and when I went to check and see what it was I found him collapsed in the street, what would you have had me do?"

"Leave him, he's probably drunk" the man replied irritably. As they entered the living room he finally got a glimpse of the man in question. His wife had lit a fire and sitting the chair in front of the fire place lay a knight in black armor. He was tall and thin, but that was all that could be said of him, all but his slightly scarred mouth was covered. "His suit is black" commented his wife "yes obviously not one of the kings men then"

"Probably for the better" his wife huffed "knights of the round table, HA! Nothing but bullies and thugs"

"And you would expect better from a traitor of crown and kingdom?" he replied. His wife opened her mouth to protest but then decided against it. The only knights to wear black are those whose names have been so dishonored that they are forced to hide their true identities. Knowing this leads a man to wonder, as it led this man to wonder. Slowly he crept up to the man and reached a curios hand for his helmet. Unfortunately he was not aware of the swords presence until it found its way to the flesh just above his heart. "I wouldn't do that if I were you" said the knight who now leaned ever so casually over the arm of the chair, sword in hand.

The man stammered a moment trying to find his voice "forgive me I didn't mean to wake you"

"of course you didn't" replied the knight "at least not anymore than a young inexperienced thief means to alert his victim, whom he has failed to realize, has been robbed enough times to know better" with that he stabbed his blade in between the floor boards as if they made for the perfect sheath, and leaned back all too comfortable in the chair "nice place" he commented "comfy chairs, warms fires, and an absolutely beautiful wife" the woman blushed covering her face with her hands, as her husband growled with irritation "ah yes, I envy you, it's been long since I've had a home of my own" he mused

"That's all good and well" said the man rolling his eyes "but seeing as how you're probably not injured, I'm assuming just drunk. Would you be so kind as to go find a nice alleyway or gutter to spend your night in?" the knight thought for a moment and pulled his sword back out of the floor boards as if he planned to leave, but instead simply laid it across his lap and sunk down deeper into the chair "mmm… maybe I'll consider it, but after my nap"

"Now you listen here!" huffed the man reaching for the knight's shoulder "what right have you to say what goes on in my house!" But no sooner than he had grasped the man's shoulder did he find himself once again at sword point. This time the knight had leapt to his feet, the sword at the man's throat. The man raised his hands to the heavens in surrender, unable to speak. "Right?" the knight said "I have no right, I have a sword which puts you at my mercy" he said tilting the angle of the blade for emphasis. "If you wish to enforce the laws under your roof you must show strength" Then in one swift unexpected motion he drew the sword back and then tossed it to the man, who caught it clumsily, obviously dumbfounded by the strange gesture. The knight stood in front of the fireplace and spread his arms out wide exposing every possible weak point. "Go on, come at me then, show me who reins in this house". The man stared at him a moment then down at the sword. There was a long pause "I'm a blacksmith" he said "I mend swords I don't wield them"

"The swordsman is the mask not the man" said the knight lowering his arms "and vice versa. Who you are and what you can do are not one and the same but two wholly separate things". The blacksmith stared down at the sword a moment in contemplation "then who are you?" he asked.

"I?" said the knight the smile fading from his face, his voice melting in to a melancholy drawl "I fear these days I am what I do, and have been for far too long…" there was a brief pause before he regained his previous joviality "but you my friend, you say you mend swords but a mere blacksmith you are not, you are a man who cannot bring himself to harm another who has done him no wrong, that makes you a good man" he said walking over to the chair once more "a good moral compass is something I can admire not all men have one" he said spinning on his heels, falling back down into the chair and resuming what had at this point become a rather characteristic slouch. He smiled up at the man "it is for this reason I believe I am trusting my sword in good hands tonight" he said. The blacksmith stared at him confused for a moment. "Good night" said the knight. "Wait!" but at that point it was no use the man dropped off to sleep faster than a ten ton weight and this time no level of poking or prodding could wake him. After a while he and his wife decided, reluctantly, just to go back to bed and deal with it in the morning.

The next morning house went through its morning routine as usual. Their unusual guest watching from the sidelines nearly unnoticed. Nearly. He watched the lady of the house go about making breakfast. She looked like a human, tall and slender, with long green hair that nearly dusted the floor when she walked. "Exotic", he thought "a nice prize for any man". It was a moment or two before she realized he was awake and watching "oh, you're up…" she breathed nearly running strait into him not knowing he was there. He simply smiled at her "thank you"

"For what?" she said pushing past him to reach the cabinets on the other side of the kitchen. "For alloying me to survive a night in your home", she rolled her eyes at him

"My husband may be a number of things but a murderer he is not" it was obvious she hadn't understood the point of his gesture last night. In entrusting his sword to her husband he was placing his life in the hands of his host. As he was considering this suddenly a loud wailing drifted in from the other room. "Miles could you see to it" shouted the woman. A muffled distant shout replied "I'm busy at the moment"

"I can burn your eggs to tend to the baby if you'd like" she replied. The conversation went silent. A few moments later the man came in with a small squalling infant in his arms. The man was about the same height as his wife with broad shoulders. He was a fox with blond hair and a white undercoat, and oddly enough… two tails.

"Peculiar" thought the knight "I hadn't noticed that before" but of course that wasn't much of a surprise considering it was dark last night and it's not the particularly easy to see through a black metal face mask. The infant closely resembled his father, only with green hair and a blond undercoat.

"He's hungry he wants you" said the man.

"In just a sec" replied his wife taking the food from the cooking fire. One thing that should be noted about baby's, they love grabbing anything they can get their hands on.

"ow!ow!ow! That's my hair!" His wife saw him struggling with the now astonishingly quiet baby clinging to his hair. She sighed and took the child from him. They boy looked as though he would cry again but then realized he was in his mother's arms and seemed relieved. The knight struggled to suppress a laugh.

"So nice to see that my family amuses you" said the man rubbing the now sore patch on the back of his head.

"No, no, I think it's cute" the knight replied. The man seemed to push aside his annoyances momentarily.

"Come, I have something for you".

Like many others his place of work was a part of his home. He led the knight to the forge on the other side of the house. He lifted a sword from a stack of several others propped up near the fireplace and tossed it to him. "I sharpened the blade for you"

"Why thank you" the black smith took a seat by the fire and the knight, without any prompting sat in the chair across from him. They were small wooden stools unlike the soft armchair in the living room.

"I figure it's the least I could do to thank you for your gift of insomnia" the man said. , the knight still grinned at him none the less, the man saw no humor in the situation but perhaps that was due to his somewhat sober demeanor. His wife always warned him of his somewhat bitter and pessimistic nature, it had a habit of getting the better of him in the face of strangers. He was a guarded man and quick to question the motives of any and every living being to enter his sphere of existence. "My name is Miles Prower by the way. We never managed a proper introductions last night"

"Ah" was all the knight said.

"I figured as much" said Miles.

"What?" replied the knight.

"You're not so inclined to tell me your name, are you?" the knight simply smiled at him. "You would be correct in that assumption" he chuckled.

"That's alright, I already have a hint." The knight's smile faded as he listened.

"Either you stole that's sword, inherited it from someone else, or you're name is Percival" the knight processed this a moment then smiled again.

"Oh" he looked at his sword and read the name written in the blade "looks like you caught me, I was once, sir Percival the 6th a knight of the round table, but may name has long since been taken by another"

"I'm not quite sure I understand" Miles said his eyes furrowed.

"Those names" replied the knight, "are passed down from one knight to the next, my name was stolen from me a year ago when I was defeated in battle" Miles thought about this a moment. He knew little of the knights or how they conducted business, few people did. In the last several years the king had become guarded and the people often knew little. "So you received that title when you defeated the last Percival?"

"uhm… yes and no" the knight replied. "Cryptic as always" thought Miles.

"I trained for many years to become a knight" he said. He voices seemed to grow steadily softer and less jovial as he continued "one day I was told I would receive my final test to achieve knighthood. The traitor Sir Percival the 5th was to be executed and I his executioner". The knight's thoughts drifted back to that day as he spoke.

He could recall the event with astounding clarity. He could just see the man in his blue suit being forced to his knees in front of him, the way his long white hair fell around his face when his helmet was removed. His hair shimmered and hid his face from view, like a willow tree, beautiful and sad. "It's a funny thing, you don't realize until you've killed a man in cold blood, just how fragile out bodies really are. How easily life can be snuffed out, and white hair stained red".

Miles struggled to fight back the lump that formed in his throat at the knights final words. "wh-what did he do…" he asked. The knight looked up at him now awakened from his gruesome daydream.

"He refused to obey orders"

"Those orders being…" the man prompted.

"The king had sent his knights to burn one of the border cities to the ground, it was a warning to our neighboring country, and in the end it was the very thing that ignited the war we are in now." Visions flashed though the knights mind, visions he had seen once or twice before. The burning buildings, the ash and soot thickening the air like a fog, people screaming, and the young mother with her two children. Percival knew his orders but could not bring himself to carry them out, instead he took the woman's arms and told her to make way to the north east exit "the one that leads into the mountains" he said, "the terrain may be treacherous but you may be able to hide away until the storm has passed. The woman nodded and thanked him.

"And in the end he couldn't do it" Miles prompted.

"In the end" the knight replied softly, "in the end who he was outweighed what he could do"

"And who was he, really?" asked the blacksmith.

"Silver" the knight replied "he was a merchant's son" and this knights only companion. For you see, contrary to popular belief the dead do so love to talk, but only a small handful of people are able and willing enough to listen.

"If only I could have known him when he was alive" laughed the knight. Miles simply stared at him as if he'd gone insane.

"oh you do so love telling jokes no one else can understand don't you" said a voice all to familiar to him. A voice only he could hear. One that had haunted his blade since the day it ran red with its first master's blood, a voice that had for so long been his mentor and companion.

"Relax Silver, it's only a bit of good humor."

"As it always is with you Sonic" replied the voice, "as it always is"


End file.
